


Bind Me Too

by icabyppup



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Good Friend, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Don't worry the comfort IS coming, Gen, Gore, Hurt Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, I can't beleive I just tagged that, I'm Sorry, Injury, No. 3 My Way or the Highway, Not quite a happy ending yet, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Smart Logic | Logan Sanders, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, but it's coming, hurt little comfort, i did not proof read this, there's actual whump in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26790673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icabyppup/pseuds/icabyppup
Summary: Roman saved Virgil. It's time for him to return the favour.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947316
Comments: 17
Kudos: 56
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Bind Me Too

**Author's Note:**

> Part two is here! This is a sequel to 'Bound To You'. I would recommend reading that first for this to make the most sense. There is also still more coming in this series.
> 
> Enjoy!

Shit.

_Shitshitshitshitshit._

Focus, breathe.

No time to panic, not with Roman…

The Prince had collapsed not two steps out of the doorway, faceplanting into the vivid green grass in a way that would’ve been amusing in any other circumstances.

And he wasn’t waking up any time soon. _Shit._

Virgil was in _no way_ the right person to deal with this, or any medical problem, ever. But Roman needed him, Roman who had only moments ago been trying to muffle his _screams_ as he _broke his own hand_ so they could escape.

Roman had saved him. Virgil would be damned if he didn’t return the favour.

The consequences if he didn’t…

_No._ Virgil shook himself, forced a direction change. He was _absolutely not_ heading to panic station right now. He took a deep breath, because he could _do that now,_ he was _out,_ and slipped into a breathing pattern in much the same way one would slip on a worn pair of socks. In for four, hold seven, out for eight.

Repeat.

Settle into the rhythm, _then_ help Roman. Oxygen masks, and shit.

_Now_ the helping Roman part. Virgil reached for the creative side to turn him over, and promptly realised that he _couldn’t feel his fucking hands._ Yep, right. Okay. It’s okay. There were other ways to move things. With some degree of difficulty, Virgil used his arms and torso to roll Roman onto his side as gently as possible.

He would have made a pretty picture, all golden in the green grass, if not for the blood.

_Don’t panic._

In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.

_It’s okay._

Think back to the first aid training Logan loved so much. Distance yourself from the situation, pretend it’s not _Roman_ laying lifeless in the sunshine.

_God, read the room much?_

Okay, focus, check responses.

“Uh, Princey? You there?”

Kneeling by the Prince’s side, Virgil nudged him gently with his elbow. Nothing.

Check if he’s alive, right. Virgil secretly, secretly thanked Logan for worrying about safety.

He could see from here that Roman’s chest was rising and falling. It was stutter and irregular, and every second inhale sounded like a death rattle, but he was breathing.

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

Evaluate.

Roman looked _terrible_. Almost dead, and not in the aesthetic, goth-y way. Not that Roman would have been caught dead wearing black, but still.

_Focus._

Yes, right. There were a few minor bruises on his face, just peeking through beneath the grass stains. Although Roman would hate them _if he-_ when he woke up, they were superficial. Though he knew that the creative side had been strung up in the same way he had been, any injuries from that weren’t apparent. Anything from that would be under his clothes, and _no._ That could be dealt with later.

His mouth wasn’t so pretty. The lower lip was a canvas of blood coating shiny pink flesh, and a glint of light reflected off of burgundy-painted tooth through a gap Virgil was pretty sure _wasn’t_ meant to be there. He was trying very hard to convince himself that the trickle of blood out of Roman’s mouth was from that, and not something more serious.

But the _hand._

_Fuck._

Roman’s hand was a _mess._

His hands must’ve been tied out of alignment, with his right thumb the furthest protrusion, and greatest obstacle, to the rope. Consequently, that singular joint had borne the worst of the damage.

It was _small._ Too small, in a way that spoke of something _missing_. The raw skin of the rope burns ringing Roman’s wrist shredded upwards, giving way to raw flesh. Torn skin hung in thick, fleshy ribbons where muscle refused to part from bone, the blood-shiny white shattered like shards of glass across a floor. The head of his thumb was somehow discernible amongst the mess, pushed into the ground at a nauseating angle to where it belonged. Blood leaked from the wound, exposed cells trying desperately to _fix._

_It might never be fixed._

Roman’s artist hands, his _dominant hand._ Virgil pushed the thought away with everything he had.

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

He couldn’t help this.

Logan. Virgil needed Logan.

He couldn’t carry Roman. Not without his hands, now that the other side was out cold on the ground. Not without maybe making things a lot, _lot_ worse.

Okay. Can’t get Roman to Logan? Bring Logan here.

There was a door out of the imagination not far from here. He could walk there, somehow get through the door without the use of his hands and then bring Logan back, along with actual medical equipment. Good plan.

But that would mean leaving Roman.

Leaving Roman out here unguarded and defenceless. With hostile creatures around.

On the doorstep of someone who had just kidnapped them, and presumably, left them to die.

_Breathe, Virgil._

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

He _hated_ everything about this.

What choice did he have?

One last look at his friend, and then Virgil ran _._ His shoulders _screamed_ at him, the first time since Roman was injured he had really noticed the pain. His wrists hung limp, hands flopping pathetically as he staggered through the grass at the fastest pace he could manage.

He wouldn’t leave Roman for a _second_ longer than he had to.

He almost ran straight into the door. As it was, his sudden stop jarred his sore muscles in a _very_ unpleasant manner, but Virgil didn’t care. He just had to get through the door.

Damn Roman and his stupid fancy circular doorknobs.

Virgil jammed his elbows on both sides of the handle, hoodie fabric slipping against the tarnished metal as he tried to force it in a turn.

_Thank fuck._

The latch clicked. Virgil shouldered it the rest of the way open and stumbled through into his home.

“Logan, _Logan!_ Help!”

The logical side’s door opened to reveal confused eyes framed by black glasses.

“Virgil?”

His expression changed as his gaze swept the anxious side. His gaze hardened.

“What is the problem?”

“Roman’s hurt, _please,_ we were in the imagination- “

“What is his condition?”

Logan’s tone shifted, taking on the crisis-management qualities Virgil had come to associate with _bad._

_Well, guess what?_

“His hand is really bad, definitely broken. Blood everywhere. His shoulders and arms could be hurt too, and I can’t feel my hands so he probably can’t feel his hands and- “

“Virgil. Virgil.”

When did Logan get so close?

“It’s okay. I’m going to get the first aid kit, okay? I want you to get Patton – we might need his help.”

Logan held his gaze.

“Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

Patton was in the kitchen. The moral side dropped a handful of cutlery with a clatter that had Virgil flinching a few steps away when he walked in.

Patton could be surprisingly no-nonsense when he needed to be.

Virgil could feel his heartbeat in the roof of his mouth as he led the other sides back to Roman, _thank God,_ still lying where he left him.

Still okay, as okay as he could be. Still alive.

Logan swore when he saw the creative side. Patton blanched.

The blood was worse now. The white sleeve of Roman’s shirt had soaked up the blood in the same way flame is drawn through a candle wick. His whole front was a sunset in pain, inkblots of mahogany waning to maroon before soaking out, diluted into pastel almost-pink. Individual pin drops, so dark they were almost black, painted constellations smeared through by twists of scarlet and crimson, left from his careless fall.

And the lip.

The _hand._

Logan had a stretcher now, he realised with a start. He and Patton were trying to load the creative side onto it without causing any further damage. 

Virgil couldn’t feel his hands. Or anything.

He hovered helplessly as Roman was shifted awkwardly onto the stretcher. He stood with Patton and Logan and tried not to pass out. They started to move, heading back to the safety of their home with every step, as fast as they dared. Every step jostled Roman, and Virgil could only wince at the rough treatment. They were trying their best.

_In for four, hold for seven, out for eight._

The living room was an ICU. The buzzing his ears was growing steadily louder, and he only caught every third or so of Patton’s words.

“Kiddo?”

He focussed his gaze hard on Patton.

“Can I touch you?”

He nodded permission, and something warm and soft and damp was wiping over his face, down his arms and presumably over the hands he couldn’t feel. Patton discarded the bloodied cloth and passed Virgil a cookie he pulled from somewhere. He burrowed into his hoodie, watching with glazed-over eyes as Logan moved around the coffee table where Roman lay.

A solid warmth next to him said that Patton had joined him on the floor, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. He clenched a steaming cup of something sweet in his shaking hands.

They waited.

**Author's Note:**

> I would massively appreciate any comment, anything at all, it would make my day <3 <3 And if you want to see more in this series, go ahead and follow it, if you want! There will be more coming.


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